


Inhuman Like You

by Dawn_Blossom



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Grima is Robin, M/M, Pining, Risen King Chrom (Fire Emblem), but right on brand for me as an author honestly, softer than you'd expect from a risen king chrom fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25357531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn_Blossom
Summary: After Grima throws him into another world, Chrom, the Risen King, runs into a more vulnerable version of his master. And Robin is afraid of waking up.
Relationships: Chrom/Gimurei | Grima, Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	Inhuman Like You

**Author's Note:**

> me: i don't like risen king chrom  
> also me: *pulls out list of 5000 exceptions where i do like him, actually*
> 
> Because I only like certain variants of RKC, I feel like this fic might not really fit most people's headcanons about him... But I hope you'll give the fic a shot anyway! I had a good time writing it, and I kind of like how it turned out, myself.

Chrom knows that something is wrong when he wakes alone.

_(”If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were still a human, with how easily you fall apart,” Grima sneers. “Get in the bed.”_

_”But I don’t need to sleep…” Chrom says, confused. Shouldn’t he be heading out to join the forces? Or at least stand on guard duty?_

_“You didn’t need to get half your skin scraped off in battle, either, but here we are.” Grima yanks him forward. There’s almost no point in ordering Chrom around when he just pushes and pulls him around anyway, but Chrom would never complain about this._

_“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Chrom says. “You fixed it.”_

_“My mistake,” Grima says, and he traps Chrom in an embrace, dragging them both down to the bed._

_Chrom’s head pulses with pain as Grima’s power pulses through the barbed crown he wears. The crown is necessary for Chrom to keep control of his own mind from the thanatophages living within him. It is also a perfect conduit for Grima’s power and Grima’s favorite way to hurt him._

_Chrom prefers his pain to come from Grima._

_“You’re alive,” Grima hisses into his ear. “You were made to serve forever at my side. Do I have to keep reminding you?”_

_”Please,” Chrom gasps._

_”Then I will,” Grima assents._

_And no matter how Chrom thrashes, Grima never lets him go.)_

Grima wouldn’t leave him like this, numb and alone and…

Chrom looks around.

What the hell is he doing in Ylisse? And why is everything so… intact? This close to the Plegian border, nature itself should be lifeless.

With a growing sense of horror, he thinks back to Grima’s last conversation with him.

_(”Her name is Lucina,” Grima says. “She wields the Falchion… A version that I did not corrupt, of course.”_

_”That’s not…” Chrom struggles to remember much of his life before this war, but there are some things that are impossible to forget. “She’s dead.” His heart can’t beat. “I watched Walhart’s men…”_

_“It’s not our daughter,” Grima says. “It’s a stupid girl with delusions of grandeur. I’ll take care of it myself. Don’t bother heading out.”_

_Grima tries to step away, but Chrom blocks his path._

_“Even if it is her, I…” Chrom closes his eyes. “For you, I would strike anyone down.”_

_“If it is her, she’ll shred you to pieces for what you’ve become,” Grima sneers. “You’re my twisted little experiment. I can’t waste time keeping track of you in a situation like this. Stay. Here.”_

_“But I…” There’s something wrong with this, but Chrom can’t remember. “I don’t think you should go, either.”_

_“The bugs are scrambling your brain,” Grima says. “We’re killing them all, Chrom. This isn’t anything special.”_

_”Right…” Chrom says, because he still can’t remember what he could possibly need to worry about._

_Grima pushes him aside effortlessly.)_

Chrom knew Grima would come back… So why didn’t he? Chrom’s crown had suddenly seared into him, clearly Grima’s doing, and yet Grima did not come. Why would Grima send him to this altered version of a land they had already destroyed together? 

A sticky liquid leaks from his eyes. It isn’t tears; this body doesn’t produce them. It is some secretion of the thanatophages, and it doesn’t even burn. Chrom wishes Grima would appear by his side and make fun of him, tell him that he has to stop letting the bugs win. Because the alternative, that this is some horrible place without Grima, is too painful to consider, even if Chrom’s dead heart already knows that Grima would have come to save his poor servant by now if he could.

“Grima…” Chrom prays, begging the wind to carry it. Nothing happens. He closes his eyes. “Master…” Chrom doesn’t usually call him by title. Grima would definitely come rescue him if Chrom stooped to debasing himself. Liquid continues to pool beneath his eyelids. Despair has been his baseline for so long, but he has always had Grima to hold onto. The world slaughtered his sisters, his friends, and even his children, but nothing was strong enough to separate him from his dearest partner. Not until now.

“For the love of the gods, run!”

Chrom’s eyes snap open at the sound of Grima’s voice. Was this all some nightmare?

Grima stands in front of him, but… No, there’s something different...

“Who…?” These aren’t Grima’s burning eyes. This nervous expression doesn’t belong on Grima’s face.

“My name’s Robin,” the man says with a sigh. “And I’m really sorry about this, but I’m being pursued by some… troublemakers. So unless you want to get caught up in my mess, you might want to take a different route.”

“Robin?” It’s been so long since Chrom has heard that name…

“Uh, yes?” Robin tilts his head. “Do I know you?”

This is so wrong. “Robin” is a false name, an artifice cloaking Grima’s true power. “Robin” was innocent and stupid like Chrom. Together they found a path to happiness only to lose everything because they didn’t want to believe the evil in this world was stronger than they were… If Grima hadn’t awakened when he did, they surely would have both been the next to die.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” he says.

“Oh, I see…” Robin shrugs. “Sorry for the confusion. Um… I guess I’ll just be going now…”

“Wait!” Chrom exclaims.

Robin flinches.

This is still Grima, sort of. The vulnerable version of him. Maybe Grima sent Chrom here on purpose. Maybe he’s supposed to take care of him until he gets his power back.

“These people who are after you…” Chrom murmurs. “The... Grimleal…?” 

He thinks that’s what they were called. He and Grima had to exterminate them early on. Couldn’t have a bunch of people thinking Grima owed them anything.

“Y-yes!” Robin takes a step back. “Have… Have you had trouble with them, too? Or…?”

“I hate them,” Chrom says. In fact, he hates everyone but Grima, spineless cowards and bastards that they are, but he can’t afford to scare Grima… by which he means Robin… off with his intensity. “Let me come with you. I can fight them off if they catch up.”

“That… That’s very kind of you, uhhh…”

“Chrom,” Chrom supplies.

“Chrom, okay…” Robin nods. “Um… I think it might be in our best interests to team up. I don’t really have a destination in mind; I think my mother wanted… Ah, s-sorry, it doesn’t matter anymore. But if we’re going to run, we’d better do it quickly.”

Chrom stares at the being in front of him. How can this version of Grima’s soul be so… inferior? He looks so delicate. Chrom could take a step forward and crush his windpipe beneath his fingers. This isn’t… his partner. He’s closer to a human.

“If we head north, we can make it to Regna Ferox. I doubt they’d follow us that far, and even if they did, I’m sure they wouldn’t want to start an international incident with the Feroxi guards,” Robin continues. “At least, I hope they wouldn’t… Or we could try to lie low in Ylisstol for a while. I hear the Grimleal are sort of allergic to the Exalted line.”

“Regna… Ferox…” Chrom had friends there… They mostly survived Gangrel, but were some of the first to fall to Walhart. Their culture demanded they live and die like warriors, but just what was supposed to be honorable about constant bloodshed, Chrom has long forgotten. Grima would call them hypocrites. All Chrom knows is that it didn’t save them.

“Alright.” Robin takes Chrom’s words as agreement to travel to Ferox, which is just as well. Ylisstol… he doesn’t want to see it again. He thinks he used to be happy there, but all he can see in his mind’s eye is Lucina, her throat slit, and Morgan, her tiny body fried by electric magic. He thinks Grima set fire to the city overrun with Walhart’s men as they fled it, but all he’s certain of is that it was the last time they both cried.

His only memory of Ferox is a cold wind. It will be a lot better.

* * *

Chrom isn’t surprised when the Grimleal catch up to them. Robin isn’t, either, but he is very upset. Chrom doesn’t see the point in wasting the energy; the fight was inevitable, after all. And the sooner they kill these men the better. It will mean fewer enemies to fight off later.

Robin isn’t unskilled with magic, but he isn’t great with it, either. Channeling his energy through a tome rather than allowing his natural power to come out is akin to trying to punch someone with your hands bound behind your back, so it’s no wonder he’s overwhelmed.

Chrom, however, is not interested in playing games. His blade stings his fingers; Grima’s power still blesses it. It takes him mere moments to rid the world of these insignificant creatures.

Grima would praise him.

“Chrom? You just…” Robin’s eyes are wide and terrified. “Are you… okay?”

Chrom does not lower his sword. He wishes Grima would recognize it. This shaken thing in front of him is repulsively helpless. What would it take to release his true strength? If his life were on the line, would he…?

“Ah!” Robin yelps, flinching back. Then, slowly, he looks down at the blade against his neck. “It’s… It’s dull?”

“I would not ever want to kill you,” Chrom says. The sword would never turn against its true master, anyway. 

Robin laughs nervously. A pitiful sound.

“Forgive me… for doubting you there,” he says. “Most swords don’t… Well, it’s fine, I guess. I’m grateful that you’re with me. I couldn’t have fought them all on my own.”

“You didn’t want to fight,” Chrom says, sheathing his blade at last. It is the only explanation for this ineptitude. If Grima wanted to bring the world to its knees right now, he would.

“... No,” Robin agrees. “I mean… this isn’t the first time I’ve been attacked. I don’t want to keep doing this. I just want them to leave me alone…”

“They’re not going to,” Chrom says. 

“I know.” Robin sighs. “But… still.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to fight.” It’s not, but Chrom can deal with it. For now. “I’ll take care of them when they come.”

“Thanks,” Robin says, staring closely at his gloved hands.

* * *

“Thank the gods they let us through without a fight, huh…” Robin murmurs as they take their first steps on Feroxi land.

Chrom shakes his head. The only god that matters is right in front of him, playing a fool.

“Aren’t there Grimleal in Ferox, too?” Chrom never fought them here… or did he? But Grima has worshippers all over the world.

Robin sighs.

“Yeah,” he says. “But maybe, once we get far enough away from Plegia, we can at least avoid… my father…”

Father… Well of course, this body had to be born into the world. But Grima wouldn’t have called anyone “Father.” Which human was it?

“My father, um…” Robin glances down. “He’s the leader of the Grimleal, actually. And he thinks I’m… his god who’s been stolen away or something. That sounds insane, I know. But that’s why they want to capture me.”

“I know,” Chrom says. “But even if you were not the fell dragon, they would not let you rest.”

“Probably not,” Robin agrees. “Ah, wait… What do you mean by…? You don’t think I’m actually the fell dragon, do you? Come on, that’s just what the Grimleal say. If I were actually a god, you’d think I wouldn’t be so…” He grimaces. “So useless. Don’t pretend I’m not.”

Sure, he’s _acting_ pretty useless, but Chrom doesn’t understand why Grima is so insistent about this.

“Of course you’re still Grima,” Chrom says encouragingly. “Your Brand glows with your power, doesn’t it?”

He reaches for Robin’s hand. It is gloved, as it always is.

“H-How do you know about that?” Robin asks. His eyes are dull and yellow, like something is clouding the purity of his soul. “It’s true I have a Brand… It’s supposed to be invisible, but sometimes it glows for no reason at all… But how would you know what that means? I don’t even know!”

Angrily, Robin throws his glove aside, revealing the familiar symbol Chrom knows.

“What’s so special about this thing?” Robin demands. “Everyone else gets to live as they want, but I have to spend my life running away from everyone just because someone else decided this stupid design is important! How is that fair? Do you know how badly I wish I could get rid of it?”

And yet, in response to his anger, the mark only glows brighter. Chrom cannot help but kneel to it, his guiding light for so long.

“What are you doing?” Robin exclaims. “I thought you hated the Grimleal! I thought you were on my side!”

“I’m on your side,” Chrom promises. “It isn’t fair… Nothing is fair… I know it…” He can’t even remember being happy, but it’s better he doesn’t know how much he lost. He knows enough. “But if you weren’t the fell dragon, I would have lost you, too!”

The thanatophages are scrambling his brain again. He didn’t lose Grima, right? Grima was always at his side. It’s only in this new Ylisse that he is alone. No, not alone. Grima’s still here, just… Different.

“Chrom? Gods, but you’re freezing!” Robin cries. His hand is hot against Chrom’s face. “Don’t… Don’t do this. I’m sorry, okay? Nothing makes any sense to me, but you… You’re my only friend in the world right now, so I need you to be okay. Please…”

A pressure weighs on Chrom’s shoulders, and he realizes that a coat is now draped over him.

Grima… might not be that different.

_(”You stupid prince,” Grima growls._

_”Thought I was a king…” Chrom murmurs. Losing an arm had barely hurt, but he’s sure he’ll be in plenty of pain when Grima’s done with him._

_”Not with that attitude,” Grima says. “Can’t blame the bugs for this one. You were always like this.”_

_”Oh…” It’s not as though Chrom would know. Grima remembers everything, though. “What are you doing?”_

_”Did you lose your eyes, too?” Grima asks._

_Fair enough. Chrom can see for himself that Grima is tearing off strips of his coat._

_”Why are you ruining your coat?” Chrom asks._

_”Because I’m trying to fix a stupid Risen King that keeps taking hits he wasn’t built to deal with,” Grima says through gritted teeth. “Seriously, you do realize that nothing else like you exists, don’t you? There may come a day when I cannot put you back in place.”_

_”It doesn’t matter to me,” Chrom says. The cloth of Grima’s cloak burns everywhere it touches him. Enchanted, no doubt. “When I see you about to get hurt, I… I cannot stand by.”_

_”I am thousands of times stronger than you,” Grima says._

_”Even a bruise is too much, if I could prevent it,” Chrom says._

_”Stop that,” Grima says. “You won’t be where I need you to be if you tear yourself up first.”_

_He drapes the tattered remains of his cloak over Chrom’s shoulders._

_”Worthless,” he emphasizes.)_

Grima still needs him. He cannot fall apart, especially now, when Grima is not wielding the power needed to set him right.

“Robin…” Chrom meets those false eyes again. “I should be… apologizing. Nothing is your fault. I wouldn’t be here if not for you. If you do not want to be a god just yet, I… I will still walk beside you as your… friend.”

Grima is everything to him, after all.

“I think there are some things you need to tell me,” Robin says, placing a hand on Chrom’s back. “But that can wait. Let’s rest at the next town. I’d do anything for an actual bed right now.”

* * *

Somehow, Robin takes Chrom being undead better than he takes himself being the fell dragon.

“Your story… sounds horrible,” Robin murmurs. “I… I don’t think there’s much I can do to help you… You know that, don’t you? That person I remind you of… isn’t here.”

He’s so stubborn. But this is not anything new from Grima. 

“Will you let me stay with you anyway?” Chrom asks.

“Yes…” Robin says, flushing slightly. “Damn it, I already told you too much earlier, didn’t I? It’s true, though… Now that my mother’s dead, you’re the only person I know who doesn’t want to cut me up and put me on an altar… I mean, you don’t, right?”

Chrom shakes his head frantically. He wants Grima to wake up, but not at the cost of torture. Hasn’t Grima been tortured enough? Haven’t they both been tortured enough for their lifetimes?

“It’s enough to be with you,” he says. He will wait an eternity for Grima if he must. Grima will laugh when he confesses his impatience then.

“Ah, see…” Robin averts his gaze, pulling at the edge of one of his sleeves. “When you say things like that, I feel bad… I can’t even…” He sighs. “Well, I guess that just means we’re both stuck, huh…”

Stuck. Like they don’t have a choice.

Chrom nods.

* * *

Mercenary work doesn’t suit Robin, who is happy to strategize but less thrilled when he has to get his hands dirty. It doesn’t suit Chrom, either, for entirely different reasons.

“You could try waiting until we get paid before you kill our employers,” Robin says drily. “Though if we keep this up, I think we might stop getting hired altogether.”

“They…” Chrom looks down at the bloodied mess he left on the ground. “They could not be left alive… They kidnapped… how many?”

“Two men, a woman, and three children,” Robin says. “I know. You didn’t see me stopping you, now did you.”

“I hate them…” Chrom says.

“So you’ve mentioned,” Robin says. With a sigh, he continues. “It is troubling… I don’t want to help these people carry on their misdeeds. But I’m not sure there’s anything else for people like us. I wish we could just… find somewhere to live away from it all.”

They could make the world a perfect place for only the two of them. But Robin still won’t admit it.

Chrom wipes the surface of his blade. How much blood does it take?

* * *

It’s no surprise that the Grimleal find them, what with the reputation they’re earning.

Chrom barely even takes in their faces. He probably killed some of them in his other world, but he couldn’t say which.

“Wh-What IS that thing?” a dark mage cries. “Some kind of Terror?”

“This was supposed to be easy…” another wails. “The master’s son was supposed to be weak!”

“The master’s son would like to kindly request that his father fuck off,” Robin growls. He is so close to manifesting the aura Chrom wants to see. But not quite there.

“Is this enough to give him the message?” Chrom asks, his sword slicing through the two Grimleal like they’re nothing. 

“Probably not,” Robin says, fidgeting with his gloves.

* * *

“So you truly can’t remember the majority of your life?” Robin asks. “Only the… horrific elements?”

“I told you what I can recall,” Chrom says. The world itself is horrific. Peace can’t exist within it. What else is there to remember? His weakness? It is good that the details of that time escape him.

“I see…” Robin looks up at him. “But are you… Are you happy here? With me?”

Hesitantly, he places a hand on Chrom’s arm. Chrom stares back. He might as well have asked if ice is warm. Chrom is not sure how he even got the idea that happiness could be a possibility.

After a long silence, Robin sighs.

“Yeah, I figured…” he says. “Life isn’t fair at all.”

He takes his hand back, turning his gaze towards the night sky above their heads.

* * *

“Hey… Doesn’t something seem weird about this place?” Robin asks. “We were hired to clear out Terrors… But I haven’t seen any for a while; have you?”

Chrom shakes his head. 

“Did we kill them all?” he asks.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Robin says. “These ruins… The townspeople say they hold a special power… Maybe it’s protecting them…?”

“Power?” As soon as he says it, he passes over some kind of threshold. There is something in the ground… He cannot feel it. But his sword begins to glow, first white, then red. Even when he sheathes it, the flickering still reflects off the hilt.

In front of him, Robin freezes.

“Chrom, I…” He never wears terror well. “I don’t… I don’t want to stay here.”

“Why?” Chrom asks. “It’s your own—”

“Shut up!” Robin shouts. “Just shut up! I know what you want… But what about what I want?”

He throws a punch at Chrom’s chest. It doesn’t do anything, of course, and Robin just sighs, pressing himself into the rest of Chrom’s body.

“I hate this,” he says. The feeling of his glove on Chrom’s skin, of his breath on Chrom’s face, almost hurts. “How do you keep going on, Chrom? Your endurance astounds me.”

_(”Hah! Should I carry you?”)_

Chrom does not know when or why he said those words. It must have been a very long time ago.

“You’re going to get everything you want,” he says. Following his memory's directive, he scoops Robin up. “Someday.”

But not today. Today is another exercise in frustration. Chrom does not want to leave this place of Grima’s power. But he will carry Robin away until he stops being frightened of the truth.

In Chrom’s arms, Robin tilts his head back and laughs. 

“You promise?”

* * *

Chrom never sleeps anymore. He has no reason to. 

Robin is evidently not aware of this. After he has stood beside Chrom’s bed for far longer than anyone normally would, Chrom gets sick of waiting to be acknowledged. He turns over and catches Robin’s eyes. Robin stumbles backwards in shock.

“Need something?” 

“Um, sorry. No…” Robin says quietly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just… thinking.”

When Robin still does not move, Chrom sighs. Sitting up, he shifts to make room for Robin next to him.

“You should just tell me,” he says. “I… I will not figure it out on my own.”

“I actually like that about you,” Robin says with a thin smile. “You never play mind games.”

In his sleepwear, Robin radiates heat. Chrom cannot suppress a shudder. He is not sure that _Robin_ isn’t playing a mind game.

“I want to ask you something,” Robin says. “Why… Why are you so loyal to Grima? I know he saved your life by giving you that body. But this is a different world. You don't owe anyone anything here. You’re free… So why come crawling to… me?”

Chrom frowns. There are two questions there. Why is he loyal to Grima, and why is he loyal to Robin? But Robin is assuming that he thinks he has to be.

“It’s not… out of duty,” he says. Maybe duty played a part in them meeting. He can’t remember. That does not matter to him. Grima is the center of his universe. The age of the universe is irrelevant. “I want to be with…”

Grima. Robin. It doesn’t matter. The sun is still the sun even when it is behind a cloud.

“What does he mean to you?” Robin asks.

That question is almost too easy.

“Everything.” As always.

“And…” Robin meets his gaze. “If I DO become the fell dragon… will you feel the same way about me?” 

Chrom hesitates. He does not know how to explain that it is not so much that he feels _differently_ about Robin, it’s just… He is greedy with his desire. He wants Grima’s heart to recognize the lowly creature hungering for his attention. He wants Grima to tear into him, to remind him that he is alive enough to have something to lose. Robin feels safe with him, but Chrom will never feel safe until Grima is once again ordering him to stop being stupid. Is it so wrong that he longs for this? True, it is only because of Grima that he lives. But more importantly, it is only because of Grima that he does not want to die.

“I…”

He never knows how to explain himself. Or maybe Grima is just not very good at listening.

_(”Why do you have such blind faith in me? You would despise me,” Grima hisses, “if you had not forgotten so much.”_

_”I remember everything essential,” Chrom insists. That his family and friends were slaughtered. That humanity cannot be allowed to continue on like this. And, most important of all, that he has loved Grima for as long as he has known him.)_

“I will feel the same,” he tells Robin.

* * *

“So… This is really it,” Robin says. “They say Naga protects this place. Well, she must be doing a terrible job of it, then. I can feel it calling to me. The power… My power…”

Chrom’s sword is glowing again. The ruins are a strange place. Sometimes he senses Grima’s power strongly, and sometimes there is… something else. Perhaps it is the power of this “Naga” everyone keeps talking about. But Chrom does not care for the power of other gods. Only Grima matters.

“This is your last chance, you know,” Robin says. “You could run away. Who can say what’s going to happen if I take all this power into me. I might just fry my own brain. Then we’ll both have to wander around getting confused about everything.”

“I…” Chrom isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond. “I… I don't think it’s unsafe?”

Robin laughs.

“Oh, Chrom,” he says. “You know, I don’t even care.”

* * *

Grima comes back to awareness on the cold stone of the ruins, his crimson eyes sharpening as they take in the shape of Chrom’s form.

Grima laughs.

“You bastard,” he says coldly. He grips the sides of Chrom’s head, yanking him down to his level.

Chrom, still no good at speaking his deepest feelings aloud, cannot begin to explain the rush that comes over him at the sound of Grima’s voice. This is the companion he cannot live without. 

“Are you happy now?” Grima hisses, digging his nails into Chrom’s scalp. “Now that I’m inhuman like you?”

Chrom barely feels the pain, but… at least it is there. He nods. Grima is here and things are finally okay. For the first time in a long time, his body relaxes.

“My pathetic servant,” Grima croons. “Such devotion to your wretched master. However shall I reward you?”

There is blood and pain in Chrom’s mouth as Grima’s lips claim his.

This is all he’s ever needed.


End file.
